


The Breakfast Nein

by blynchbooks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blynchbooks/pseuds/blynchbooks
Summary: Who knew The Mighty Nine liked theater as much as they liked drinking?Our heroes, in a lighter moment, inside of an AU where famed 80's filmmaker John Hughes was actually a playwright in Zadash, inspired by a convo I had with my friend/Critical Role superfan. This is pure fluff and I hope you enjoy it as much as we have. There's cussin' because it's the Nein, so of course there is. Prost.





	The Breakfast Nein

The actor raised his fist, his back turned to the crowd; velvet curtains enveloped the stage. No sooner had the play ended than two hundred Zadashi rose to their feet with thunderous applause; far in the back, seven figures--eight, if you include the spectral cat, though it lacked the ability to clap--joined them. 

Jester, the merry tiefling, delightedly clapped until her palms turned a darker shade of blue; Beau’s look of bemusement was the closest thing to a normal smile any of the other Nein had seen from the monk. A wide, toothsome grin filled Molly’s purple face. “Very well done,” he said, leaning over to the tall, well-muscled Aasimar woman next to him. “Not my favorite of his plays, if we’re being honest, but still, damn well done.”

“Uh, yeah,” Yasha said, politely clapping. “It was… uh, really good.” She shifted in her feet. “Can we go drink now?”

“Yasha, dear, they haven’t even come out for the _encore_ yet.”

“Fine.” She sighed. Her mismatched eyes--one greenish-blue, one violet--noticed a set of small goblin fingers reaching into the purse of a Zadashi theatergoer in front of them. “Nott. Not here.” 

The goblin rogue’s hands instantly retracted; the purse remained woefully full. “I didn’t do anything,” Nott protested, her pitched voice muffled by a cracked porcelain mask. Her wide yellow eyes pleaded innocence. “And even if I did, he looked _very_ surly.” A bandaged hand tapped her on the shoulder. She held her own hands up, open to the coated, dirty figure. “See, Caleb?” she said. “Nothing in my hands. I didn’t take anything from the very surly man.”

“That is very good, Nott,” Caleb replied slowly, with a tone of caution, as Frumpkin crawled along its perch on his shoulders, “But remember: we are trying to keep a low profile, ja? Especially here. Everything must stay where it is. If you get the itch--”

“Maybe just… look at one of those shiny things you already have,” Fjord grumbled. “Or put it in Caleb’s pocket, an’ pretend you’re stealing it back.” Nott’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not the same,” Nott protested, as she reached for her flask. Torchlight danced along the engraved platinum, and the fragrant odor of top-shelf whiskey wafted into Caleb’s nostrils as she took a swig. “I already know it. It’s about… finding something _new_ and shiny.”

“I know what you could do, Nott!” Jester interjected. “We could get a bunch of shiny things, like rocks and some jewelry and a _necklace_ , and put them into my Haversack, and you could like, try to sneak in and get one without me knowing, but it’d be, like, _totally random_ , because you could get a shiny thing, or you might get a donut, because I still have some in there from last week and I think they might be getting a little stale.” She cringed. “Actually, maybe I should get them out of the Haversack before they get really bad.”

Nott stared at the tiefling. “It’s okay. The itch is gone.” She took another swig, capped the flask, and returned it to her cloak before anyone noticed it’d left her hands. “Can we go drink now?”

“I’m with Nott,” Beau said, not-so-casually stretching to flex for the young Zadashi woman admiring her abs from a row away...right in eyeshot of the Zadashi woman’s female date. “I”m not really a theater kinda gal, so… let’s go do somethin’ I’m good at.”

“So, flirting and smiling are out, which leaves… fighting and drinking,” Molly replied, as he watched the two Zadashi women turn on each other. It wasn’t looking like there’d be a second date. “I know a place nearby. C’mon.”

###

“Are you kidding me?” Beau said, as her beer sloshed on the oaken table. “No. I’m that Bendar guy. I’m the cool one, with the jacket, and the--we’ve both got gloves. And, like, sashy things on our waists.” Frumpkin crawled along under the table; the roar of the tavern felt distant in their corner, as the Mighty Nein crowded around their drinks and argued. 

“Look. If there’s anybody here who’s got the--the cool thing going, with the hand-gloves, and the mystery… it’s me,” Fjord replied, pointing a gloved finger to himself. “You’re more like... Andi.”

“What? That guy’s lame,” Beau said. She shook her head. “I mean, we’ve both got, like, sick martial arts moves, but...nah. I don’t see it.”

“Actually, I think Yasha is Bendar, because she is big and strong and mysterious… Fjord is like Andi because he is a big softie and he is like really nice, and handsome, and so are you, Beau,” Jester said. “But, you know, really pretty instead of being, like really handsome, because you’re a girl.”

Beau and Fjord looked at her, puzzled. “...Thank you?” Beau said. Yasha chuckled to herself, and drank her beer.

“You’re welcome,” Jester said, before turning to Fjord with a sly smile. “And you’re also welcome, _Oskar_.”

“Fjord. It’s Fjord,” he said, blushing. “Okay. So, that’s, uh, two of ‘em. There’s still Nott and Jester, and Molly, and Caleb--”

“I think Caleb would be Bendar,” Nott said. “They both go by their own rules, cause trouble, shake things up a bit…”

“And they don’t bathe,” Jester said. “So they, like, have that in common. But really, I think he’s more like Bryan, basically.”

“Oh. Yeah. Absolutely. They’re both huge fucking nerds,” Beau said, laughing. Yasha snorted in her drink. Caleb shrugged, and sipped his beer. Molly smiled, and whispered something in his ear; Caleb scowled, and his cheeks turned red.

“No argument there. All in favor?” Fjord said. Beau, Molly, Yasha, and Jester raised their mugs. Caleb sighed, and cursed in Zemnian as he was dubbed the Mighty Nein’s Bryan. 

“So,” Yasha said, as she leaned over the table. “Jester... Who do you think you are?”

“Well,” Jester said, glancing upward, “I liked Claare, she was like, really pretty, and we both wear pink, and I really liked her dress and her boots because they were just like mine,, and she was really nice, and she was a cleric, so, basically, she’s me.” Caleb shook his head.

“Yes, you do have a resemblance,” Caleb said, “But I think you have much more in common with the elven rogue.”

“No. Ali’son is totally Nott! They dress alike, they both like sneaking around and stealing things…”

“...and causing chaos, which I believe is a favorite pastime of yours,” Caleb added. “And as I recall, Ali’son ends up with Andi after the ‘make-over’.” Jester stiffened in alarm. “Somehow, I don’t think you want Nott with...either Andi?” Nott pulled down the porcelain mask for a moment, baring her pointed teeth in a somewhat crooked smile, and raised her eyebrows. Jester studied her for a second.

“No, you’re right, I’m Ali’son,” Jester said, without a second thought. 

“So I’m Claare?” Nott asked, hope filling her yellow eyes. “I get to be the pretty one?”

“Are you sure it’s not Molly?” Beau said. “I mean, he’s definitely the prettiest one here.”

“Oh, no,” Molly said, with a grin, as he traced a finger around his glass. “I sincerely appreciate the compliment, but I’m not a Claare.”

“You’re that dick from ‘Pretty in Pink’ with the dumb hat,” Yasha remarked, as she chugged her beer.

“Please. He’s definitely Caleb.”

“You can fuck right off, Molly,” Caleb replied.

“I appreciated his fashion sense. And he and Bryan are both adorable. Even if they are huge fucking nerds,” Molly said, with a wink. “And yes, Nott. You are the prettiest little goblin I’ve ever seen. In my heart, you’re definitely Claare.” There was a halting set of squeaks from Nott’s corner of the table. Her eyes were wide, and filled with tears, which alarmed the group; no one had ever seen a goblin cry, or heard it.

“You… uh, you okay, Nott?” Beau asked. 

“It’s the...the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Nott said, her sniffles muffled by the mask. She wiped her eyes. “Nobody ever thinks I’m pretty.”

“Wait,” Beau said. “So… I’m confused. who’s who?”

Caleb stood up, red-faced. He wobbled a bit, and the Zemnian accent came out stronger as he spoke. “Nott is the pretty one. I am the huge fucking nerd. Beau, and Fjord all think they are Bendar, which is bullshit, because you are a bunch of fucking softies. Jester is the elf who likes to steal things, even though she looks like the pretty one, so it is like the story in reverse. Yasha is the janitor because she is always cleaning up our messes. And Molly… Molly already has the coat, he is the biggest liar of us all, so he is fucking Bendar... But that is all bullshit. We are all liars, and janitors, and pretty ones, and elves who steal shit, and fucking softies, and huge fucking nerds. Does that answer your question?”

Stunned, Beau raised her glass. “Uh, not really?”

“Too bad. Let’s drop it and get shitfaced, ja?” He raised his glass. “To us. Prost.” The Nein raised their glasses for a toast. But nobody considered Frumpkin, who weaved his way through the legs at the table; he knew he was _definitely_ Bendar.


End file.
